


An Apology for Willow

by viridiangold



Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM Scene, Begging, Communication, Desperation Play, Don't Like Don't Read, Established Relationship, F/F, Face Slapping, Fluff and Smut, Healthy Relationships, Humiliation kink, Impact Play, Light Masochism, OH YEAH I FORGOT TO SAY THEYRE LIKE 17-18 IN THIS, Omorashi, Rope Bondage, Sub Drop, Teasing, Verbal Humiliation, amazing dom willow, and moving on from the past, good bdsm etiquette!!!, haha - Freeform, happy new year, i will be open, no more fear, okay anyway, okay there's only one face slap, okay this should be enough tags, oooookay here are the tags i'm nervous about, pleamse im shy, sub boscha obviously, this is self care for me, watersports i guess but it's mainly the omo control aspect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:07:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28473651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viridiangold/pseuds/viridiangold
Summary: Boscha and Willow have been dating comfortably for a few years, and Boscha has more than made up for her stupid hostility from when she was younger. And yet, she supposes, some more apologizing wouldn’t hurt. Or maybe it would. In a good way.Okay, so maybe this is just Boscha’s excuse for some impact play and roleplay. Willow knows her deeper than that, though, and Boscha’s “apology” explores kinks of hers that she didn’t expect to experience on this day.
Relationships: Boscha/Willow Park
Comments: 10
Kudos: 120





	1. Foreword

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sitting In A Tree](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26687251) by [TheFoolsYouSee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFoolsYouSee/pseuds/TheFoolsYouSee). 



_So I was kind of inspired by the fic “Sitting in a Tree” by TheFoolsYouSee. I definitely wanted to explore the Boschlow dynamic after they got older, sort of following the trope of homophobic bully is actually gay and dates victim, likes being humiliated, victim gets revenge on them, BUT ALSO the bully realizes what they did was wrong, both of them grow up and get more mature about it and start dating only after becoming better people._

_There was also another reason. I try to be very open with my sexuality and in exploring my kinks (and fanfiction is, like, the best place to explore for me). I’ve always advocated for the concept that all kinks are valid and nothing to be ashamed of. However, there’s this one kink that I’ve been afraid of writing. A partner I used to date mocked this kink and said that, if I had it, they would probably break up with me. I never revealed it. I’m also a bit shy of writing it for fear of being called gross, since people on the internet often either think it’s disgusting or something really funny to be mocked._

_Anyway, I’m going to follow my own advice now, and explore this concept in this fanfiction. Um, you readers probably already know from the tags what I’m talking about (*shy embarrassed scream*) and if not, here is the passage from “Sitting in a Tree” that made me consider writing this older Boschlow fic._

Here’s the excerpt:

But Gus had a serious look on his face. ‘There’s still one thing I need to know,’ he said, and dug his hand into his satchel; Boscha started to feel on edge again, until he pulled out a piece of paper and held it up in front of her face, pointing to the two images he had drawn on it. ‘If you wore glasses, would you wear them like this, or like this?’

Boscha blinked in surprise, then grimaced. ‘Eww, I don’t know. I hope I never have to wear dorky-'

She bit her tongue, but too late. A tension grew around the table; Gus lowered the paper, Luz’s eyes started to narrow and Amity looked down at her flask, lifting it to her mouth as if to try and hide her face inside it.

Willow, however, was calmly continuing to clean her glasses on her sleeve. ‘That’s okay,’ she said. ‘I hope if the Grudgby coach ever tells me I’m the new team Captain I don’t get so excited that I wet myself.’

Amity spat out the mouthful of her drink, her spluttering coughs interjected with shocked laughter. Luz tried to help her girlfriend recover, but her wide eyes were fixed on her quiet friend across the table.

‘Willow!’ she scolded in amazement.

Boscha was also staring at Willow, her mouth agape. No-one had ever been brave enough to acknowledge that incident in front of her before.

‘All the time I was teasing you,’ she said with horrific realisation, ‘and you were holding back.’

Willow nodded. ‘I was trying to be merciful.’

Their new dynamic kept Boscha on much less secure footing than she was used to. Once they’d become comfortable enough around each other she tried to introduce some light, flirty banter. But Willow’s comebacks would be absolutely devastating; one time Boscha had pointed to a rock formation that had vaguely looked like her girlfriend. Willow had said that if she was attracted to something so hard and cold she should think about the effect her mother had had on her.

One afternoon the two of them were relaxing in Boscha’s room. She had taken down most of the trophies that used to line the walls, and Willow had brought over a couple of plants that made for much more welcoming decoration. Boscha was letting one of the succulents wrap a shy tendril around her finger.

‘I’m starting to see why you like looking after them so much,’ she said. ‘Even if it’s a bit needy, you can’t help feeling sorry for it.’

‘Yeah,’ Willow said, lying back on Boscha’s bed and tossing a Grudgby ball up in the air. ‘It’s the same kick I get out of dating you.’

Boscha shook her head in disbelief. She went and lay next to her girlfriend on the bed, and they snuggled in close. ‘This is your revenge, isn’t it?’

Willow gave a guilty smile. ‘Maybe a bit. I’m sorry, I’ll stop making fun of you if you want me to.’

The triclops turned her head toward the wall.

‘Y-You don’t have to stop...’ she murmured.

There wasn’t a reply. She glanced back at the other girl who was giving her a confused look before she seemed to notice Boscha’s blush and her eyes widened in realisation.

‘Do you… like it?’ Willow asked.

Boscha’s whole face was now bright red. It was still hard for her to work out what she was really feeling sometimes, but she was starting to recognise that the idea of her old victim now holding some power over her was a little… exciting.

The former terror of the Hexside hallways swallowed nervously as her girlfriend leaned her face close.

‘Well, isn’t that interesting…’ Willow whispered through a mischevious smile.

  
  
  


_Again that^^^ is not my writing but it's some GREAT writing you should all check it out!!!_

_Basically, in my story, they’re older (17-18), in an established (really cute) healthy relationship. This fic follows great BDSM etiquette, so yay. And um yes! The kinks are… as listed… haha… I know this might not be everyone’s cup of tea, so… yeah. askdjfhaksljdfhfalskdjfhasfhaksfhj okay that’s all don’t read it if you don’t want to_


	2. The Actual Chapter

“Are you sure you don’t want to hit me?” Boscha grumbles, blowing a strand of her pink hair out of her eyes. Willow viciously tightens the rope stretching from Boscha’s right wrist to the hook in the ceiling, and Boscha winces appreciatively in response. 

“No,” Willow replies calmly, moving on to her other wrist. 

“Really?” Boscha asks, but it’s more begging than asking, and they both know that. “You’ve never wanted to hit me. Not ever? Not even when I was being a little shit to you every day?”

“Nope,” Willow says, a little smugly. “That would have been a waste of my strength.”

Boscha rolls her eyes, even though her stomach does a little flip at the reminder of Willow’s impressive strength. Her gaze lands dubiously on the various potted plants dangling from the other hooks in Willow’s bedroom ceiling. “Are you sure this will hold?”

“Yes,” Willow says emphatically, jerking Boscha’s arm away so that her arms are stretched above her head in a Y shape. “How does this feel?”

“Good,” Boscha grumbles. The flats of her feet, clad in black socks, are resting on the floor, and she can stand without relying on the ropes to hold her up. She feels out of place, though, strung up in Willow’s bedroom in her crisp, perfect Hexside Potions uniform amid all the comfortably sprawling plants and little clouds drizzling moisture onto their leaves. Willow’s bedroom is just so  _ calming. _

And Boscha isn’t calm. “I thought you were gonna…  _ use me, _ ” she says, a little too plaintively. “You know you can use my body however you want. Let me… let me pay for everything I’ve done to you.”

Willow steps back, amused. “That wouldn’t be a punishment, now, would it?”

Boscha pouts. Then, she thinks it over. “Wait, timeout for a quick second, yellow.”

An instant after hearing the safeword for ‘pause,’ Willow is all over her girlfriend, asking what’s wrong.

“No, no, not like that,” Boscha says. “I’m fine. I’m just confused. I thought it was going to be like… sexy punishment, not punishment punishment.”

Willow relaxes. “Oh,” she says suggestively, raising her eyebrows. “No, wait for it, it’ll be sexy punishment.”

“But you won’t even hit me!” Boscha complains.

In the next moment, a slap wrenches her head to the side, pain blooming in the side of her face like a hot smear. Boscha gasps, sagging in her bindings, tears coming to her eyes, a ringing in her ears.

“Happy now?” Willow says, in a voice that’s smooth and dark and merciless, and Boscha has never been so grateful before in her life. 

“Y-yeah,” she says, shivering and struggling back to a standing position. The heat on her face is more blush than pain at this point.

For a brief second, Willow smiles at her and winks, all warmth and love. Boscha’s heart surges happily. Then, the dark smirk drops back over Willow’s face as she steps away, and other parts of Boscha begin to tingle in anticipation.

To her disappointment, however, Willow just walks over to her desk, ties her curly hair up into a fluffy little ponytail, and sits. Boscha cranes her neck, attempting to see what the  _ hell  _ Willow thinks she’s doing instead of sexily torturing her girlfriend, excuse me, but it seems like she’s just working on a paper of some sort. Huh.

A few minutes pass. Boscha stands impatiently. There’s no room for her to walk around, just enough to stand. She keeps standing. Time seems to pass extra slowly now. A couple of times, she opens her mouth, but decides against it. Willow seems to be busy.

After what feels like an eternity, Willow rises and stretches, turning to smile at Boscha. Boscha smiles back, heart fluttering. 

“Be right back,” Willow says. “It’s going to be a busy day, and I need to get snacks.”

Boscha watches in utter disbelief as Willow exits the room. Because, what the heck? What’s she trying to do? 

Left alone with the plants, Boscha has no choice but to look around the room. It’s familiar to her, now, the quaint windowsill overlooking a street in downtown Bonesborough, the hearty smell of Willow’s dads’ cooking (though they’re out for the day today), the solid wooden desk where they study together, the heavy, hot pants that Willow makes when she’s exercising or close to a climax teased out by Boscha’s tongue—

“I’m back!” Willow chirps, and Boscha stifles a groan, squeezing her thighs together. 

She watches in absolute suffering as Willow places a platter of fruit, a glass, and a pitcher of tea on her desk. Then, Willow putters around the room, making a show of checking on every plant, watering them when necessary, and adjusting their positions to some sort of plant plan unknown to Boscha. 

Finally, she settles back down at her desk.

Boscha groans. “Are you going to actually  _ do  _ anything?”

Willow whips around, glaring. “I’m doing lots of things. Are  _ you _ going to keep talking, or do you want a gag too?”

Boscha lets out an embarrassing aroused whimper, straining forward. Suddenly, like the flip of a switch, Willow is back to her sunny self, pouring out a glass of greenish-tinged tea. She crosses the room, cups Boscha’s cheek lovingly, and puts the rim to her lips. 

“Sorry, babe,” she murmurs, her voice like warm honey. “Drink up. I’ll make sure you get enough nourishment today. I’ll take care of you. Like one of my plants.”

It’s an incredibly embarrassing metaphor, and Boscha is even more embarrassed to be fed and watered like some helpless baby, but it’s Willow. Her girlfriend. Who happens to humiliate her all the time in the best way. So, with a blush warming her cheeks, Boscha leans forward and sips. The tea is surprisingly tasty. 

Without warning, Willow suddenly tips the glass forward, forcing its contents down Boscha’s throat. As she tries her best not to splutter and choke, Boscha gulps it down noisily, tears coming to the corners of her eyes.

“There we go,” Willow smiles gently, turning back around. “Let me know if you want more.”

“It’s pretty good,” Boscha agrees. “What blend is it?”

“It’s used in health and wellness for detoxifying your body,” Willow says, absentmindedly from her desk. She shuffles the papers and puts them neatly back down. “Think of it as… something you drink to speed up your body’s natural cleansing process.”

Blah, blah, health and wellness jargon. While Boscha definitely respects her girlfriend’s slight obsession with exercise and eating lean meats and fungi, she herself has always been more of a stay in bed and scroll social media while eating fast food type. Still…

“Can I have some more? Oh, and also some of the griffinfruit?”

“Sure,” Willow says, and her tone is so sugared that Boscha almost feels suspicious. Almost.

Still, she’s getting snacks n’ drinks literally delivered to her mouth, so she can’t really complain, even if she’s seriously waiting a looooong time for the sexiness. 

Willow keeps working for hoooours. Fine, that’s an exaggeration. Judging by the sunlight coming through the blinds, it can’t be much later than noon, and they started the scene like, an hour before. Boscha isn’t one for patience, though, and her body seems to agree. She can’t help but squirm a little. The ropes are starting to be a little rough on her wrists, just the faintest hint of being uncomfortable. Her shoulder blades are definitely starting to ache from staying in that position for so long. While she has plenty of opportunity to stretch, all she really wants to do is bring her arms close to her body again. 

As if reading her thoughts, Willow looks up. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Boscha replies. “Green.”

Willow smiles. “Want more tea?”

Boscha considers this. She’s starting to feel a little full, almost like she might have to go use the bathroom soon. Terrible timing. She opens her mouth to say no, but Willow is already in front of her with the damn tea, and in fact tipping it into her mouth again, and then Boscha has to concentrate on swallowing and not talking because saying something would probably make her choke on it.

“There you go,” Willow says brightly, and Boscha smiles uncomfortably back.

About ten minutes later, and Boscha is definitely regretting her choices. She shifts her weight back and forth, but the pressure in her stomach remains. And, now that she’s more conscious of it, her needs are getting worse. It’s certainly not helped by the drizzle and mist of Willow’s various… plant watering thingies everywhere. Boscha groans. 

“Something the matter, dear?” Willow asks innocently.

“I—can we take a pause,” Boscha says through gritted teeth. “I kind of maybe need to go.”   
  
“Go where?”

“Go to the bathroom,” Boscha says, all in one rush.

There’s a silence. She looks up.

Willow is leaning back in her chair, staring at her, a wide-eyed,  _ purposefully _ innocent look on her face. “Can’t you just hold it?”

And this is when Boscha realizes that her girlfriend is  _ evil. _ Aaand she recalls a few of their previous conversations about… this. A hot flush spreads through her entire body, and excruciating embarrassment causes her to drop her head.

“Color check?” comes Willow’s concerned voice.

And, in what might have been the most embarrassing color check Boscha has ever had to confirm before, she bites out, “Green.”

“Okay,” Willow says. Boscha looks up to see her approach with another glass of tea.

“Oh, fuck, no. What even is that?”

“Like I said,” Willow smiles patiently. “Something to speed up your body’s natural cleaning processes.”

Boscha groans and scrunches up her face. “I’m not drinking more of that shit.”

“Okay,” Willow agrees, surprisingly. “But will you kiss me?”

Boscha leans forward eagerly, eyes closed, straining against her bonds. The soft press of Willow’s lips against hers is a familiar delight. What she doesn’t expect, however, is for Willow to open her mouth and release a gush of liquid into her mouth. It’s the fucking tea. 

Boscha pulls back as much as the ropes allow, and droplets of tea spatter onto the ground between her and Willow, who’s—she’s fucking giggling. 

“You tricked me,” Boscha glares.

“You love me.” Willow boops her on the nose. 

Boscha responds by scrunching up her entire face at Willow, rocking back and forth on her heels. 

“Aw, I’m sorry,” Willow says, and lunges forward to hug her. The hug puts an uncomfortable pressure on Boscha’s lower abdomen, however, and she curses, trying her best to flail backwards. 

“Willow,” she hisses. “Stop. I have to fucking pee.”

“I know.” Willow bats her eyelashes. Then, in a quick whisper—“Green?”

“Green,” Boscha returns, begrudgingly.

“I see no problem then.”

Willow’s hands roam all over Boscha’s body, gripping and tugging and squeezing in all the right spots. Boscha tries to twist away to keep her careful concentration from breaking, but the ropes keep her in place. Besides, Willow presses into her from behind now, wrapping her in a hug. Gradually, her hands wander under Boscha’s uniform skirt, diving inside her leggings to press against the wet patch of arousal at the front of her underwear. 

“Having fun, babe?”

Boscha tries her best to grind down, and to her surprise, Willow obliges, keeping her palm flat and firm. To Boscha’s utter chagrin, it only takes about a minute of furious rutting for a weak orgasm to wash over her. The important thing is, after being sexually satiated, the urge to pee is less all-consuming, in fact almost gone, and she lets her shoulders slump in relief. 

Willow laughs and flops back on her bed. “It’s going to happen at some point,” she teases.

“I’m fine,” Boscha growls. And she does feel fine. She straightens up, adjusts her posture, and stares Willow down challengingly.

“You won’t be fine forever.” Willow crosses her arms, leaning casually back on her bedspread, watching her girlfriend with an expecting smile.

Boscha clenches her teeth, her urges starting to return. She absolutely refuses to let Willow see how much she’s being affected, so she focuses on contracting her internal muscles imperceptibly. 

That smirk of Willow’s is getting really distracting, though. 

“Just give in,” she calls. The thought is much too tempting for Boscha.

“Shut up,” Boscha replies, starting to shift her weight again. After weighing the option of doing a series of embarrassing hops against wetting herself completely, she decides on the former, Willow watching her amusedly. 

“Wow, Bosch, never knew you could dance like that.”

“Shut  _ up! _ ”

Willow has the nerve to laugh and slide off the bed, walking over to her. “You need me again?”

Boscha nods feverishly, and it takes even less time for her to get off this time, rocking furiously on Willow’s thigh. However, this time, her relief only lasts for about ten seconds before she’s wincing again, twitching and squeezing her legs together.

“Again,” she demands. 

Willow shrugs. “It’s not going to help you in the long term.”

Boscha chooses to ignore this in favor of another fast orgasm, even weaker than the previous ones and barely providing any relief at all. Sweat drips down her face as she focuses on maintaining control, her entire body trembling. 

“Again,” she pleads, vision blurring as her eyes fall half-shut.

Boscha loses count of how many times she comes, climaxes getting weaker and weaker and faster and faster until they start to blend into a straight line of desperation and pleasure but not enough satisfaction. She’s sore and hot and raw, and the ropes are chafing red-hot now against her wrists, but she can’t stop now, because if she stops, she knows she won’t be able to hold it.

Her breath comes fast and heavy, her body straining to keep clenching on Willow’s thigh even as Willow starts to pull away, concerned.

“No!” Boscha yelps, clamping her legs together as Willow finally tears herself away. It’s too late, though, as a tiny bit of liquid dribbles past her efforts. She whimpers.

Willow smooths some of her sweaty hair back from her face, murmuring, “It’s time to give in, don’t you think?”

Boscha barely hears her, every effort focused on not giving in. Another quick spurt of urine escapes her control, but she clenches, again, hard, rising to her tiptoes while keeping her knees bent and thighs pressed firmly together. Her entire lower half won’t stop shaking, and it takes everything she has not to just give in already. The ropes sear her wrists as she tugs against them with all her might, trying to bend down further. They won’t let her double over like she wants to, so she wraps her right leg around her left, crossing them to the best of her ability, and locks her right ankle around her left calf, jerking from side to side.

Willow watches her impassively. Boscha already feels so hot and sweaty that she’s sure she looks like a whole mess and a half, but Willow is there, soaking in every bit of her agony. And Boscha realizes how  _ humiliated _ she feels, and for a split second there’s some sort of realization there, some flash of insight about maybe how Willow used to feel, how good it feels to get the humiliation she deserves, except it doesn’t matter now, because she can’t handle this anymore, her body is shaking so hard that it’s not even helping anymore, she’s falling apart, and Willow is there watching her fall apart.

Hot liquid spreads, heavy and wet, in her underwear. Her legs are still clenched, but it’s like her body is forcing it out, expelling every bit of liquid inside her without her consent. A giant stain spreads on her skirt, little streams trickling down her leggings to pool on the floor. At last, she exhales deeply, spreading her legs, letting a torrent pour down for what feels like ages to splash on the floor until she’s completely spent, satisfied and tired as if finishing up an intense round of sex. As she sags, exhausted, in her bondage, she senses more than sees Willow free her. 

Boscha would have just crashed to the floor, but Willow catches her and lowers her gently. Boscha isn’t sure at first what’s going on, as she keeps her eyes closed, body resting bonelessly on the floor, cheek pressed into a pool of her own urine. Then, she realizes that Willow is clutching her hands delicately, performing healing spells on the rope burns. 

“You okay there, beautiful?”

“Y-yeah,” Boscha mumbles tiredly. The satisfaction is starting to wear off, turning into discomfort and disgust at the rapidly cooling liquid that soaks her whole body, weighing her down. It smells unpleasant and sharp, like fuel for fire.

She lets Willow drag her to her feet and carry her by the armpits, like a bedraggled and misbehaving cat, to her bathroom. She doesn’t protest as Willow strips her down carefully, throwing each damp item of clothing into a filled basin at the ready. 

“I’ll go clean up, then come back, okay?” Willow says gently. “You can go ahead and take a shower.”

She turns the hot water up, letting Boscha soak in the bath while she leaves the room. The hot water washes away the weird stickiness on her skin. Boscha lets herself relax, muscles mellowing as she sinks into the warmth of the water. She’s well and truly tired.

Nevertheless, she can’t wallow in the bath forever. Boscha sits up, drains the water, and turns on the showerhead, starting to scrub at her skin. A horrible feeling of self-disgust begins to settle over her, especially as she no longer feels aroused at all. 

“Ugh, I’m so gross,” she mutters, tears stinging her eyes.

“You’re  _ not _ ,” Willow insists. Boscha’s head snaps up; she didn’t hear or see her come in. Willow smiles at her, pulling her own shirt over her head. “Can I join you?”

Boscha nods wordlessly, making room for Willow to duck in with her. Willow immediately envelops her in a hug, stroking her back and whispering reassurances into her ear. 

“I don’t know why I’m being like this,” Boscha sniffles, tears starting to creep out of her eyes. “I— I really enjoyed it at the time.”

“It’s okay,” Willow murmurs, gently soaping up her body. “Sub drop happens.”

Willow washes her body with tender care and carries her back to the bedroom, an unspoken understanding that she’ll be staying the night. As Boscha resigns herself to being the little spoon and snuggles deeper into Willow’s soft, warm, clean embrace, she considers: maybe it’s time to move past apologizing to Willow. Maybe it would make more sense to start thanking her for being the kindest, most understanding, and best girlfriend a witch could ask for.


End file.
